the quiet hum of the room is almost soothing, the faint scent of paint and canvas mixing with the soft shuffle of hyeongjun’s movements. he’s been at it for hours, carefully tracing strokes on the canvas, lost in the world he’s creating. his concentration is intense, brows furrowed, lips pursed in a way that makes you forget to breathe.

as you watch, the tension in the air shifts. hyeongjun’s gaze catches yours, and for a moment, the world around you falls away. he pauses, his paintbrush hovering over the canvas, eyes dark with something unspoken. it’s not just the art that fills the space now—it’s the connection, the quiet desire that’s been building between you two since he invited you here.

slowly, he moves toward you, setting the paintbrush down with a soft click. there’s no hesitation as he reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm gently, his touch lingering like a promise. “you’ve been watching too much,” he whispers, his voice low, almost teasing. “you should come closer.” without waiting for a response, he steps forward, guiding you with him into the space between him and the canvas. the heat of his body against yours is enough to send a shiver down your spine, but it’s the way he looks at you—soft but intense—that makes your heart race.